Zanoni eBook

The philologist was much struck with this discovery,
and begged Mervale’s permission to note it down
as an illustration suitable to a work he was about
to publish on the origin of languages, to be called
“Babel,” and published in three quartos
by subscription.

CHAPTER 2.VII.

Learn to be poor in spirit, my son,
if you would penetrate that sacred night which
environs truth. Learn of the Sages to allow
to the Devils no power in Nature, since the fatal
stone has shut ’em up in the depth of the
abyss. Learn of the Philosophers always
to look for natural causes in all extraordinary events;
and when such natural causes are wanting, recur
to God.—­The Count de Gabalis.

All these additions to his knowledge of Zanoni, picked
up in the various lounging-places and resorts that
he frequented, were unsatisfactory to Glyndon.
That night Viola did not perform at the theatre; and
the next day, still disturbed by bewildered fancies,
and averse to the sober and sarcastic companionship
of Mervale, Glyndon sauntered musingly into the public
gardens, and paused under the very tree under which
he had first heard the voice that had exercised upon
his mind so singular an influence. The gardens
were deserted. He threw himself on one of the
seats placed beneath the shade; and again, in the midst
of his reverie, the same cold shudder came over him
which Zanoni had so distinctly defined, and to which
he had ascribed so extraordinary a cause.

He roused himself with a sudden effort, and started
to see, seated next him, a figure hideous enough to
have personated one of the malignant beings of whom
Zanoni had spoken. It was a small man, dressed
in a fashion strikingly at variance with the elaborate
costume of the day: an affectation of homeliness
and poverty approaching to squalor, in the loose trousers,
coarse as a ship’s sail; in the rough jacket,
which appeared rent wilfully into holes; and the black,
ragged, tangled locks that streamed from their confinement
under a woollen cap, accorded but ill with other details
which spoke of comparative wealth. The shirt,
open at the throat, was fastened by a brooch of gaudy
stones; and two pendent massive gold chains announced
the foppery of two watches.

The man’s figure, if not absolutely deformed,
was yet marvellously ill-favoured; his shoulders high
and square; his chest flattened, as if crushed in;
his gloveless hands were knotted at the joints, and,
large, bony, and muscular, dangled from lean, emaciated
wrists, as if not belonging to them. His features
had the painful distortion sometimes seen in the countenance
of a cripple,—­large, exaggerated, with the
nose nearly touching the chin; the eyes small, but
glowing with a cunning fire as they dwelt on Glyndon;
and the mouth was twisted into a grin that displayed
rows of jagged, black, broken teeth. Yet over
this frightful face there still played a kind of disagreeable
intelligence, an expression at once astute and bold;
and as Glyndon, recovering from the first impression,
looked again at his neighbour, he blushed at his own
dismay, and recognised a French artist, with whom he
had formed an acquaintance, and who was possessed
of no inconsiderable talents in his calling.